


The Imprisonment Of Aaravos

by TheImaginativeOne



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Battle, Earthblood Elves (The Dragon Prince), Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Relationship, Primal Sources (The Dragon Prince), Suffering, Worldbuilding, avizandum - Freeform, star nexus, tdp, the mirror - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheImaginativeOne/pseuds/TheImaginativeOne
Summary: Aaravos knew he had a price on his head, that was for sure. What he didn't count for was every elven clan coming together to bring him down.This is my headcanon about how Aaravos was imprisoned in the mirror. A huge thanks to everyone on discord who helped!
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	The Imprisonment Of Aaravos

The sound of blazing furnaces and metal on glass met Jeatar’s ears as he walked into a stone building at the edge of Xadia, a look of determination in his eyes. He glanced around, keeping his wings close to his body as he began to walk through the building, watching as glass blowers created works of art before his eyes.

He paused at a set of workers, marveling slightly as they lifted a blob of molten hot glass out of a fiery furnace by a pole, the furnace kept lit by a set of runes etched on the inside. The group of elves; a tidebound, earthblood, and sunfire rushed over to a seat near a table, where they set the pole on. The earthblood held onto the heavy pole, twisting it as the tidebound used a wet piece of cloth to mold the hot, taffy-like glass into shape. After a second she pulled away, the sunfire stepping in and using a spell to quickly heat up the glass for a moment, so the tidebound could mold a bit more.

Jeatar turned away, looking around for a sign of someone who wasn’t working on glass making. He signed in annoyance. It seemed that everyone here was at work.

There was movement in the corner of his eye that caused him to turn. Spying a Moonshadow elf kneeling by a crate, Jeatar rushed over.

“Excuse me, Sir?” he asked, “Who is the elf in charge of this establishment?”

The elf huffed, lifting up the crate which was full of glass stones and beads. He turned to Jeatar with a scowl, shifting the weight of the box in his arms. The elf had short white hair and beard, a pair of purple horns curled on the top of his head. He wasn’t wearing usual moonshadow elf garments, but wore burnt, leather pants and a jacket, as did most of the other elves that Jeatar had passed.

“And who might you be?” the elf asked gruffly, looking Jeatar up and down as he wiped sweat off his brow, “You don’t work with us, do you? Judging by your… odd outfit.”

Jeatar paused at his tone of voice, narrowing his eyes at the stern elf. True, Jeatar’s clothes looked nothing like the Glass Houses’s uniform, or resembled Skywing clothes either. He wore a purple tunic with blue and white designs, a ribboned top that criss-crossed over his chest, and grey leggings. On his shoulders he wore a pair of violet shoulder pads and metal braces on his arms. Slung across his shoulders hung a violet satchel with swirling blue designs and pearled beads that ran across the handle. Jeatar looked like a lilac flower in a sea of brown and earthy tones. It was no wonder the moonshadow elf was looking at Jeatar so strangely.

But that didn’t stop him from becoming slightly offended at the elf’s tone, “I am Jeatar,” he responded, “I have been sent here with important business. I need to speak to whoever is in charge here.”

The elf tilted his head, sizing Jeatar up, “Who’s business?”

“I’m afraid right now that is between the owner of this establishment and myself.” Jeatar smirked, looking the elf up and down, “And I’m assuming that’s not who I’m looking at, considering that you said, ‘Work with us,’ and not, ‘Work for me.’”

The elf smiled slightly, “Hmm. At least someone around here listens.” The elf murmured as he turned away, pointing to the back of the building where another group of elves worked, “You’ll be looking for Vyand or Lurra, a tidebound and Earthblood elf. They both own and run the place.” Not even saying goodbye, the moonshadow elf turned and rushed off with the crate, heading to a pair of doors at the side of the building.

Jeatar huffed, making his way to the back of the shop, where he spotted a tidebound elf as she hefted a pole covered in glass out of a furnace. There were a few other Tidebound elves around, but Jeatar could tell she was the elf he had been looking for. She held a look of aggressive determination as she made her way past him, pieces of her curly black hair falling from her messy bun. She kept her eyes on the molten glass, twisting the pole in her hand so the glass wouldn’t fall off the rod, her muscled arms bulging from the weight. She wore a dirty and burnt grey tunic, a brown leather vest with the Glass House’s coat of arms on the front, a pair of leather pants rolled up to her knees and large black boots that reached up to her calves covered in bits of glass. She had an air of authority around her as she passed by a group of elves.

“Move, move!” her voice boomed, the elves rushing out of the way as she set the glass on a metal plate fastened to a bench where she began to roll it back and forth. After a moment she moved the glass over to a brass railing, where she set the pole down and began to spin it. She quickly leaned down, blowing into the metal pipe, another tidebound elf holding the glass steady with a piece of wet cloth. Jeatar watched in fascination as the glass began to enlarge slowly, the design becoming clearer as it grew. With a huff she and the other elf pulled away, lifting the pole back up and carrying it back to the furnace.

Jeatar stepped forwards, “Miss Vyand?” he called. A few elves looked at him, but quickly turned away. She stared into the furnace with determination, turning it back and forth in a moderate pace. Jeatar cleared his throat, “Miss Vyand?” he called out again, louder this time. She perked up, turning to look at him. She glanced him up and down, then turned away to look back at the furnace.

“I’ll be with you in a second.” she called out, then turned to a skywing elf standing nearby, “Take this for me will ya? I think you can handle it from here.” The elf she spoke to nodded, quickly taking the pole from her and taking it out of the furnace, lifting it and twisting the pole like Vyand did and sped off in a different direction.

Vyand turned away and strolled over to Jeatar, “What is it?” she asked, wiping her hands on her already dirty tunic.

"Do you own this establishment, Miss?" Jeatar asked.

She nodded and crossed her arms, “Co-own with my wife, Lurra.”

Jeatar continued, reaching for his bag, “I have a request from-”

“I’m afraid we're a bit busy with excessive orders here, and we can’t afford to get side tracked.”

Jeatar opened his mouth, but she cut him off again, “If you have something that needs to be made you will need to fill out the necessary paperwork in advance. We don’t do walk-ins.”

“I-”

“We are backed up by at least 6 months at the moment,” she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “But I’m sure we can fit you in somewhere.”

Jeatar glared, “I’m afraid that this request, Miss,” he turned away, opening the latch of his side bag and pulled out a scroll, “can’t wait six months. I come bearing an urgent message from my… employer.”

Vyand looked at the message in Jeatar’s hand with a glare, “And if it is so urgent, why didn’t your employer send me a shadowhawk?” she reached out and took the scroll from him, “Wouldn’t that have been a bit easier? Perhaps even faster?”

Jeatar shook his head, “I’m afraid this message is too important to send it on it’s own. In case it fell into… the wrong hands.”

Vyand glanced up at Jeatar in confusion, then looked back down at the scroll, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes widened when she saw the ornate, light blue wax seal, the shape of the sky primal source surrounded by dragon wings.

“The Dragon King’s coat of arms,” she whispered in shock. Vyand looked up at Jeatar, eyebrows furrowed, “What is this?” she asked, looking him up and down, “Who are you?”

He straightened himself, “I am Jeatar, an emissary of the Dragon King.”

“What is this about?”

Jeatar shrugged, “I’m afraid I do not know. I didn’t write it, I’m just the messenger,” He looked down at the message in concern, “But I’m afraid that I can not leave until I get an answer.”

Vyand stared at the letter, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Worried thoughts ran through her mind, not exactly sure what to do first. Her fingers grazed over the wax seal, her mind telling her to break it.

Vyand’s head shot up and she looked around her, “Perhaps I should get my wife. We should discuss this together.”

Jeatar tilted his head, “And where would she be?” he asked.

Vyand turned around and began to walk away, using one hand to untie her curling black hair from her bun and letting it fall to her shoulders, “Upstairs, probably working on an order. Follow me, please.” Vyand strolled over to a wooden door near the back. She swung the door open and began to climb a pair of narrow wooden stairs. The steps creaked at Jeatar followed her, glancing out a small window as they climbed. The ocean swirled a seafoam green, whitewaters slamming against jagged rocks littered on the shoreline.

Jeatar turned his attention away and continued up the stairs, pausing slightly as he reached the top. The room he had reached was a small attic. There were different glass creations strewn about everywhere, the sun reaching for them from the window and casting rainbows all over the room. In the corner there was a single bed and all over the room there were shelves that were littered with books. Sitting at a small desk was an Earthblood elf, reading and writing on a pile of papers. She had a buzzed haircut, her antlers curling on the top of her head with glass stones and beads wound around them. She wore the same outfit as Vyand did, but with more glass gems sewn into the leather.

Vyand grinned, strolling over to her, “Hey,” Vyand smiled, reaching around and softly hugged Lurra from behind, kissing the top of her head, her curls tickling Lurra’s forehead.

Lurra smiled, crinkling her nose as she giggled softly, “Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be downstairs helping the newbies with the glass?” she teased, turning her head to look up at Vyand.

Vyand chuckled as Lurra’s horns poked her in the cheek, “Yes, of course.”

“Then what are you doing up in the loft?” she asked.

Vyand’s smile faltered, her eyes darting over to Jeatar. He shifted his weight slightly under her sharp gaze.

“We got a message today.”

Lurra quickly noticed Vyand’s tone of voice change, “Oh? From who?”

Vyand said nothing, just handed her the scroll and backed up a bit. Lurra puzzled at Vyand’s sudden distance, but glanced down at the scroll either way. Her eyes widened, leaping out of her seat as her gaze landed on the ornate seal.

She spun towards Vyand, “A scroll from the Dragon King?” she asked, her eyes full of worry.

Vyand nodded, crossing her arms, “Yes. Apparently Avizandum has a request, and it’s so important that it had to be sent with the Dragon King’s own personal messenger.” she said, pointing a thumb at the skywing behind her. Lurra glanced over at Jeatar. He smiled slightly, raising his hand up in a lazy greeting.

She nodded back, then glanced back down at the scroll, “You haven’t opened it yet.” she pointed out.

“Well, seeing as we both own the place I thought we should open it together.” Vyand said, smiling softly.

Lurra paused, “Would… Would you like to open it?” she asked. Vyand shrugged, biting her lip. Jeatar sighed softly, leaning against the wall. Lurra looked back down at the scroll, rubbing a thumb over the wax seal. With a slight grimace she broke it in two, unraveling the message. Vyand wandered behind her, peering over her shoulder and read silently alongside her.

Lurra took a deep breath, “The Dragon King has requested the presence of the owners of the Glass House at the Tidebound Archipelago. They are to set aside all projects and immediately travel to the Storm Spire for a meeting with the Dragon King as well as the blacksmiths from the Silvergrove, mineralogists from Drakewood, and enchanters from Lux Aurea. Please bring any necessary paperwork and supplies that you may need. The Dragon King awaits your arrival.”

An uncomfortable silence hung over the three elves. Lurra glanced up, looking at Vyand with wide eyes.

“What should we do?” Vyand asked, not tearing her eyes away from the scroll, “This seems really important. Looks like every elf in Xadia will be banding together to make what Avizandum is requesting. Something like this hasn’t happened in centuries.” Vyand looked up at Lurra, “What should we even say?” she whispered.

Lurra shrugged, rolling the scroll back up, “Well, it is Avizandum. We can’t exactly turn him down, he’s our King.”

Vyand nodded, “Then it’s settled,” she turned to Jeatar, “We’ll pack up immediately and head to the Storm Spire to discuss the request with him.” Jeatar nodded, pulling himself away from the wall he had been leaning against, “I’ll head to Avizandum immediately with your reply, then.”

“Thank you, Jeatar, for your patience.” Lurra said as Vyand turned and grabbed a spare piece of paper and quill, “I know we aren’t the politest bunch in Xadia.”

He smiled softly, “Trust me, I’ve met worse.”

XxX

“I will let the Dragon King know you two are on the way to the border to discuss his request.” Jeatar said as he and Lurra walked out of the Glass House. The wind ruffled Jeatar’s black hair as he looked out at the ocean. He took a moment and closed his eyes, feeling the air curve and swirl around him. There was something about it that didn’t feel right. The way the smell of the sea pulled at his mind and how the taste of salt from the air rested against his tongue caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

The sand of the beach crunched under his shoes as turned to face Lurra, “I’d suggest leaving soon, and perhaps closing up the Glass House while you’re at it. I am afraid a storm is approaching, and I’m sure that you wouldn’t want to lose any resources.”

Lurra nodded, “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

Jeatar nodded, opening his wings and taking off. He smiled slightly as he flew, feeling the cool rush of wind through his wings as he made his way back to Avizandum, the Great Dragon King.

XxX

Only a few days had passed once Vyand and Lurra arrived at the Storm Spire, carrying papers and quills as they made their way to the top. At the arch they met Jeatar, who performed the necessary spell for them to continue before flying away from them; disappearing into the clouds. Soon they had reached the top and together they walked into the large stone room where they met the Earthblood, Moonshadow, and Sunfire elves. There were two of each of them, and they all glanced over at the Tidebound and Earthblood elf as they stopped in front of them.

Just as Vyand opened her mouth to speak, Jeatar flew out of the Dragon’s room.

“Avizandum is ready to see you all now.” he spoke as he landed in front of them.

Lurra and Vyand held hands as they and the other elves made their way into the rocky chamber. Lurra couldn’t help but gasp slightly and tighten her grip on Vyand’s hand as she gazed up at the Dragon King. She had never seen a dragon in her life and hadn’t expected Avizandum to be so large. He stared down at them all as they stopped in front of him.

“I have brought you all here because I need your help,” Avizandum started in a booming voice, “As you all must know, the Startouch elf Aaravos has done terrible crimes to Zadia. He has taught Humans how to use magic, and has murdered the Queen of Lux Aurea.” at this the Sunfire elves glared.

Avizandum continued, “I am going to put a stop to the archmage at once. And I will need all of your help to do so.” he glanced over all of them slowly, “Are you with me?” he asked.

There was a pause, and then a moonshadow elf stepped forwards and knelt on one knee, his partner following him, “The Moonshadow elves will stand alongside you to bring down this foe.” he spoke in a raspy voice. At this, the other elves also stepped forwards, nodding or speaking their agreements, including Vyand and Lurra.

“Good,” Avizandum said, “Let’s get started at once.”

XxX

The moment Vyand and Lurra arrived back at the Glass House everyone got to work. Vyand rushed around, helping others as they all gathered large amounts of sand. All other orders and requests were quickly set aside, the Glass House putting all of its employees' efforts into making the glass panel of the mirror.

"In a few days we'll have the glass ready," Lurra called out to everyone that morning, "After that all that's left is to wait for the metal work to arrive with the moonshadow elves along with the enchanters from Lux Aurea and the mineralogists from Drakewood. Then the silver and tin coating from the mineralogists will turn the glass into the mirror and then it will be set into its metal stand. Then the enchanters from Lux Aurea will perform the necessary spells on the mirror that the Dragon King has ordered them to perform.”

Vyand stepped forwards, “Once the mirror is complete it will be immediately transported to the Storm Spire where it will be kept safe until all of the elven warriors and mages have gathered. Let’s get to work everyone!”

XxX

Aaravos hummed quietly to himself as he gazed up at the night sky through his large and ornate telescope. Finally spying the distant planet he was searching for he looked away and turned to his notes and began to draw the planet; every so often looking back into the telescope for more details.

He stood on a large black obsidian mass that used to be a large caldera. In his younger years he had blasted the large mountain of earth open and transformed the molten lava inside into the onyx plane he now stood on. The obsidian perfectly reflected the night sky and Aaravos used it to study the planets and stars and all the arcanums. Aaravos himself had created his own star nexus.

Over the years he had built a large circular, stone building around the obsidian and called it his home. All around him were bookshelves filled with ancient texts and artifacts, magical plants for potions and spells, and different kinds of bugs milling around the plants and animal parts sitting on shelves or floating in jars. In the middle of the large room stood the golden telescope. It was large, with swirling designs and gems laid into its metal. Dozens of knobs were placed at the base so Aaravos could look out into the heavens as far as he possibly could. The top of the building he had left open so the night sky could be seen through and be reflected off of the obsidian, a protective spell placed over the building to protect everything inside, including himself.

He knew that there was a price on his head set by Avizandum. After everything Aaravos had done to the elves and how he had helped the humans he was not surprised. Since then he had placed large amounts of protective spells around his home. He had only ever trusted a select few of the location to his nexus. As far as he was concerned he was safe and would just have to wait out the Dragon King's anger for a while before he would attempt to make peace and explain himself. If that meant he had to hole himself up, alone, at the star nexus then so be it. Besides, it would only be for a short while.

Aaravos took a deep breath at the thought and quickly turned his mind to the humans, sure, in that single moment, that everything would work out in the end. Little did he know that his nexus had finally been revealed, tonight his protective spells had just fallen, and outside of his safe haven elves from all over had gathered to put an end to Aaravos once and for all.

Avizandum stood in the distance as he stared at the stone building. “The elf is not to be killed. That is an order.” he called out softly to the elves around him, knowing that the message would be passed on, “He is only to be subdued.”

The elves around him nodded and turned to each other, word quickly making its way to everyone. Avizandum took a deep breath.

“Attack.”

The hairs on the back of Aaravos’s neck stood on end, but before he could even turn around a spell had been shot at him through the open window. He stumbled off his chair as it hit him and in an instant felt his powers drain from him. Aaravos cried out, grasping onto the telescope for support as his knees buckled, his muscles aching. Still, he had not waited a single second. As fast as his legs could carry him he rushed over to the wall. Resting against it was a scythe. It had a black handle with golden swirls laid into it. The blade itself was of a large chunk of amethyst that had been sharpened and strengthened with a spell. As he grasped it there was a bright, blue flash that made Aaravos wince and blink furiously. For a second everything was still. Then the building around him came crashing down; Aaravos quickly rushing away from the crumbling wall. Dust rose up around him and Aaravos coughed hoarsely as he looked around at the rubble. In only a second everything that he owned and cherished, everything he had built and worked on; was gone. His heart fell as he glanced down at his feet.

The obsidian had cracked; the night sky’s image broken. Any extra power that the nexus could have provided him had vanished with it.

He only had a split second to mourn before elves started to rush at him from all sides. He lifted the scythe with heavy arms and willed for his powers. He could feel them deep down, but could not reach them. He was as helpless as a human. With all of his strength he swung, elf after elf being knocked away from him. He growled and grimaced as he fought. He may be powerless, but he knew how to fight like a warrior. All the while he dug deep in his mind for abilities he could never reach.

Aaravos fought as hard as he could, but without his powers he was outmatched. It didn’t take long for the scythe to be wrenched away from his hands. He hadn’t even landed his first punch when an elf jumped on his back. His knees buckled with the weight. He reached behind him for the elf but his arms were quickly grabbed by other elves and held fast. The rest of Aaravos’s strength was leaving him. Aaravos yelled and growled in frustration, twisting in his restraints as the elven warriors held onto him. His arms ached as he pulled, cursing and shouting, but they held tight. With a grunt an elf kicked at the back of his knees, Aaravos crying out as he was brought down, more elves rushing forward and grabbing onto his calves, holding his legs to the ground.

“Let me go!,” Aaravos growled, “Release me!” The elves holding him didn't bat an eye, but instead looked ahead of him. Aaravos twisted his hands, opening and closing them like claws. He tried all his might to summon his connections to the six primal sources back. But it was like digging for water in a sandy desert.

“Don’t give him any wriggle room,” called a booming voice ahead of them, causing Aaravos to turn his head, looking up at the large sky dragon as he landed in front of the elves, shaking the earth. Aaravos glared, blood poured down his head and into his eyes, mixing with the dirt and dust on his face, but Aaravos ignored it as he looked up at the Dragon King.

“His powers may be defective at the moment,” Avizandum continued, calling out to the elves that held onto the Startouch, “But he is still a great fighter. If he sees a way out he will take it.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Aaravos growled, pulling some more, “Why are you doing this to me?”

Avizandum glared, “For your crimes against Zadia you will be punished, Startouch.”

“I have done no such crimes!” Aaravos yelled, “I have done nothing wrong!”

“We have a witness that says you were the one that murdered Queen Aditi of the Sunfire Elves. You have been crossing the border between the Xadian and Human Kingdoms, while meddling with the affairs of humans and the Arcanums of magical creatures!” Avizandum shouted, “You have given the humans something dangerous! You have given them Dark Magic!”

“I only wanted to help them!” Aaravos’s hands curled into fists, “They are not feeble or weak! They can be as strong as we are! And helping them can benefit us as well!”

Avizandum growled, “You have shown them how to rip the magic out of the creatures of Zadia, and how to use that magic for their own personal gain. They now murder innocent creatures to achieve a power that is dark and twisted. You are the cause of all this madness, Startouch, and I intend to stop it.”

Behind the Great Dragon walked five elves. A sunfire, moonshadow, earthblood, skywing, and tidebound, all holding their own primal stone. They were the High Mages of their Arcanums. And behind them poured more elven mages from all throughout Zadia. Few held their own primal stones, others held trinkets and objects that possessed magical qualities, but most had nothing at all; only the primal energy that they connected to. There were probably a hundred or so elves now standing before him, all looking at him with anger and hatred; the objects they held shimmering in the crowd. Aaravos’s eyes widened at the sight. All of these elven mages were brought together by the Dragon Kings word. All of them were going to use their power to do something horrible to him.

“For your crimes you will be locked away, where no one will find you.” Avizandum continued.

“No!” Aaravos began to struggle again, tears forming in his eyes.

“You will be hidden where you can’t escape, and you will stay there-”

“Stop it!”

“-Until the end of your existence!” Avizandum shouted, his voice booming around them, echoing off the mountains surrounding the valley they were in, “You will be forgotten! Your name will mean nothing! Your name will be cursed, so no other human nor elf will be able to learn about you and your twisted ways.”

“You can’t!” Aaravos screamed and began to thrash again, but the elves were ready. They held onto him, not budging an inch. Aaravos cried out, looking to the other elves, “You can’t do this!” he pulled with all his might. His muscles ached as he wriggled, tears threatening to fall.

“We can!” Avizandum responded, taking a step forward, his clawed hands slamming against the ground and digging into the earth, “And we will!”

There was a scraping sound behind Aaravos and the elves that held onto him. Aaravos panted in fear and anger, craning his neck to see what was now behind him. A Moonshadow elf growled, grabbing his horn and turning his head to face the elven mages now standing before him. Aaravos grimaced, his head felt like it was on fire from the pain, but Aaravos ignored it, gritting his teeth as he looked back up at Avizandum.

“Then why not kill me!?” Aaravos asked, “Why not kill me and get it over with!?”

Avizandum glared, “For what you have done, death is not a worthy punishment. You don’t deserve a quick death. You deserve to suffer! Alone and weak! Forgotten! A fitting punishment, seeing as that is what you fear most.”

At this the five mages raised their primal stones, glaring at Aaravos as the stones began to glow, some sparking and zapping, others glowing with a blinding force. The rest of the elves behind them followed suit, one of them standing out to him the most. She was a Sunfire elf, with braided blonde hair and an ornate headpiece. In her hand she held the Sunfire staff from the Sunfire Elf Kingdom. Aaravos immediately recognized her as Queen Aditi’s sister, who had unfortunately been the witness to Aditi’s defeat. She glared at Aaravos, her teeth gritting and a tear falling down her cheek as she lifted the staff and pointed it at him, the staff shining as bright as the sun.

“You’ll regret this!” Aaravos cried out, looking back up at Avizandum “I’ll make you regret this day!" he glanced to the hundreds of elves before him, "All of you!” But the elves paid his shouts no mind. Their eyes glowed as they all raised a hand, holding their stones and trinkets close to their hearts. They began to chant as one, their voices rising up together, echoing all around the valley they stood in. Their hair glowing, the paint on their skin lighting up. Aaravos felt his skin begin to tingle, his hair and eyes glowing as well as the stars that adorned his arms and chest. From behind him there was a bright white light that Aaravos could not see. Aaravos cried out, screaming and thrashing, his muscles burning as he fought, but the elves held him tight. His fists opened and closed, trying to perform a spell, any spell, but he was still powerless.

The chanting continued, louder, the mages stepping forwards, closer to the startouch elf. Aaravos’s skin began to burn, his eyes leaking tears of pain and anger. He closed his eyes and let out a bloodcurdling scream. As one, the elven mages began to draw a rune, their fingers rising up and swirling around in perfect unison, each rune glowing a blinding white light. With one last shout the rune exploded, Aaravos letting out one final scream as a tear fell towards the ground.

By the time the tear hit the ground it was over.

Aaravos fell forwards, the palms of his hands slamming on a cold stone floor. He panted, blood and tears falling from his face. It was deadly silent. The only sounds he could hear was his own breathing, the ringing in his ears, and the sound of blood hitting the floor. His arms ached and quivered as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, panting heavily.

Aaravos opened his eyes, looking around him as he shook from exhaustion. He was alone in a room. It was covered in bookshelves, with a desk and a fireplace. Turning his head he looked in front of him. His eyes widened at what he saw. There stood an ornate mirror as tall as him, but it wasn’t the mirror that scared him, but what it showed.

Standing on the other side, looking at him in hatred, stood the elves and Avizandum. They glared at Aaravos as he gazed up at them in fear. Slowly he stood up, crying out in pain as he stumbled over to the looking glass. He crashed into it, looking out over the sea of angry faces.

He shook his head in disbelief, “What is this?” he rasped, “Let me out.”

The elves didn’t bat an eye. On the other side it was deadly quiet. No elf dared to move. They could see Aaravos’s mouth moving, but it was a silent night around them. They only saw a broken elf staring at the crowd, his words never reaching them.

Avizandum glared, but turned away, “It’s over,” he called out, breaking the silence.

Aaravos’s eyes widened. He saw Avizandum speak, but he couldn’t hear him. None of them could hear him.

Aaravos cried out, raising a fist and slammed it against the glass, “You- you can't!” He banged harder, using both fists, tears rushing down his face, “Let me out!”

The elves on the other side turned away, save for a few who stared at him in horror.

“Let me out!” Aaravos screamed, banging his fists harder. The glass did not shatter or break, but remained strong.

“Let me out! Let me out!” Aaravos was blinded by his own tears, he could barely see as the mirror changed. It shifted and warped, the familiar faces of the elves fading away.

Aaravos shook his head, “No!” he cried, “No, Please!” He kicked and screamed, smashing and slamming his hands against the glass but it was no use, and soon Aaravos was staring at his own reflection. He sobbed, his voice cracking, trying to use any power he had to break the mirror. He placed the tips of his fingers against the glass, closing his eyes in worry and fear. He tried his hardest to muster up something, anything. His hands sparked slightly, teeth gritting, but it wasn't enough. He opened his eyes in shock, looking up at the mirror in horror.

He turned away, limping over to the desk at the end of the room and grabbed the chair sitting at it. He pulled it away, dragging it towards the mirror. His whole body shook, head swimming, stars dancing in his vision, but he ignored it as he hefted the chair up and above his head, arms trembling. He swung hard, hitting the mirror with the last of his strength. The chair shattered upon contact, the pieces flying all over the room. Aaravos stared at the mirror, mouth agape. There wasn't a scratch or a dent in either the glass or the metal.

There was an odd sound next to him and Aaravos turned his head in shock and watched as the broken chair swung back up, each piece gathering up together and reforming the once broken chair. It looked like nothing had happened to it. Not a scratch nor a dent.

Aaravos's vision filled with tears, "N-no." He whimpered, reaching out to the glass, "No, it can't… you cant..." Aaravos closed his eyes in defeat, falling before the mirror as he shook his head. “Please,” he rasped, placing a bruised and beaten hand against the cold glass, “You can’t… You can’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be left alone.” His words echoed around the room, no one but him could hear them. And after hours of pleading and begging he gave up, succumbing to sleep at the base of the mirror; his prison for the next three hundred years.


End file.
